


Christmas Magic

by Swlfangirl



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: AU, Hale Fire Never Happened, Imaginary scenarios, Kid!Derek, Kid!Stiles, Papa Hale Plays Santa, Sheriff Stilinski's Name is John, Stiles is a Little Shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-23
Updated: 2017-12-23
Packaged: 2019-02-18 20:22:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13107837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Swlfangirl/pseuds/Swlfangirl
Summary: So apparently I'm dreaming Sterek Fic again and I just had this vision of John being all apologetic to the BHSD Santa because Stiles is like a rabid dog (heh) when he's suspicious. And then I just had this image of Papa Hale (played by George Clooney for obvious eyebrow related reasons) turning back to him feeling a little insulted that the sheriff doesn't think he can hold his own with an eight year old.It doesn't go at all like he planned, but thanks to "Christmas Magic" he gets to preserve the image of Santa for the local kids.





	Christmas Magic

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TheyDraggedMeInNowIAintLeaving](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheyDraggedMeInNowIAintLeaving/gifts).



> I created this last minute in case the lovely mods needed an extra piece, but I think maybe they'd already gotten what they needed. So this is for you too, @TheyDraggedMeInNowIAintLeaving <3 Merry Christmas!!

John scrubs a hand over his face, letting his breath out slowly. He faintly wonders if he was _this_ much of a handful when he was Stiles’ age but he quickly reassures himself that he wasn’t. Losing his wife almost two years ago certainly hasn’t made things easier on either of them and now Stiles is convinced that Santa doesn’t exist and the _imposter_ needs to be dealt with.

 

John just wants five minutes of peace.

 

He makes Stiles promise to stay with Tara at the front desk and moves on into the station to where James Hale is getting into his Santa costume and rubs nervously at the back of his neck.

 

“Okay, so there’s no easy way to say this but I just, I wanted to apologize upfront…”

 

“For?” James says, a small smile twisting at the corner of his mouth.

 

“My kid is uh, _inquisitive_ by nature...gets it from his mother’s side of course,” John teases, his heart clenching painfully at the memory of his lost wife. “But he’s convinced himself that there’s no Santa and that Christmas, all of it, religious aspects and non-religious, is a hoax.”

 

John leans against the wall as James turns back to look himself over. “Normally, I’d probably just come clean and tell him the truth but Stiles has a tendency to umn, how do I put this…”

 

‘To be long-winded.”

 

“Yeah, let’s go with that,” John agrees, not wanting to call his kid a brat, though sometimes he fit the bill a little too well. “So you’ve met him then.”

 

“My daughter Cora has mentioned him a few times. I believe they’re in the same grade at school,” James says, tugging a bit at his beard to make sure it stays in place. The sheriff is looking back at him with a little fondness for his child but there’s also a distinct scent of worry rolling off him. “It’s fine, John. I’ve dealt with a few skeptics in my day.”

 

“You don’t know Stiles,” John says as he pats James on the shoulder and shakes his head. “Good luck out there.”

 

James chuckles to himself and thinks, “How bad could one eight year old really be?”

* * *

 

 

He _might_ have underestimated the sheriff’s worry.

 

It’s less than twenty minutes into the BHSD Christmas party and James is too damn close to ruining Christmas in Beacon Hills for kids of all ages. Question after question is fired at him, mostly from Stiles and he answers as many as he can with logical, normal answers. But he’s had to use the ol’ _Christmas Magic_ line a couple of times now and he can tell the more he does the more irritated Stiles becomes.

 

Though something warm coats his stomach at how bright and curious Stiles is, the kid just refuses to back down, reminds him a bit of himself actually.

 

Peter is probably cackling somewhere nearby.

 

“What _specifically_ gets someone on the naughty list…”

 

“Well, Stiles… If your father would be disappointed, so would Santa.”

 

“So really you’re just saying we have to mind our parents. You don’t have any rules of your own?’ Stiles says, not even skipping a beat before coming back with, “What about stuff like, Scotty’s not allowed to play outside when it’s cold because he has asthma, but I am because I don’t. If we _both_ snuck out to play outside when it was cold, Scott’s mom would be more upset than my dad...does that mean Scott’s on the naughty list but I’m not?”

 

James shakes his head. “Well would you mind answering a question for me, Stiles?”

 

“You can ask.”

 

“Do you think Scott would sneak out to play at night, _on his own,_ if it were dangerous?”

 

“Ugh!”

 

That apparently is _not_ well received, though James can smell just a hint of honeyed embarrassment underneath the cinnamon tang of anger. He’s unintentionally making Stiles smell like Christmas with his already overwhelmingly pine signature he inherited from the sheriff and James’ stomach growls heartily at the scent.

 

“Okay kids, as much as I would love to stay with you, I’m afraid I really must get going. There’s a lot of work to be done up North and if I’m lucky Mrs. Claus will be waiting on me with some warm Christmas Stew, Ho Ho Ho.”

 

James hugs a few children goodbye, smiling widely at some of the younger ones that try to sneak in another Christmas Wish.

 

Before leaving though, he turns to Stiles and bends down on one knee so that they are eye level and he says, _“Never stop asking questions, Stiles. Never give that up.”_

 

Reluctantly, Stiles hugs him as if he’s expected to do it and James doesn’t think he’s ever felt more worthy of a child’s acceptance outside of his own.  

 

It feels like something special.

* * *

 

 

“Oh you should have seen it, Talia…”

 

“Go ahead, Peter...I’m glad to see you’ve found some amusement, even if it’s at my expense,” James says, shrugging off his jacket.

 

“I’m sorry to report that there’s no _Christmas stew_ , dear but the kids ordered pizza and I left a plate in the microwave for you,” Talia says, leaning in to kiss his cheek. “You know how they get after a full moon, everyone passed out in the upstairs Den.”

 

James does _not_ miss that playful glint in her eyes that say she revels as much as Peter does in his misfortunate experience with Stiles.

 

It’s a good thing he loves her, otherwise he’d have to kill her.

 

Peter on the other hand…

 

James is just about to take a playful swipe at his brother’s neck when he hears Derek heading down the stairs.

 

“Thank your nephew, Peter. It’s because of him that you’re not off in the woods licking your wounds,” James says with a smirk before padding over to the stairs.

 

“Papa?” Derek asks, sleepily rubbing at his eyes.

 

“Hey pup, what are you doing out of bed?”

 

“Missed your heartbeat…”

 

James chuckles to himself, of all his kids of course it would be Derek who was restless without him there. He pulls his son in for a tight hug, laughing a bit when Derek sniffs at his neck suspiciously.

 

“Mmm, you smell like Christmas.”

 

“Actually that would be Stiles, pup.”

 

“What’s a Stiles?”

* * *

 

 

John smiles fondly at the familiar sight of James getting into his well worn Santa Costume. He thinks back on all the good that the Hale family has done for his town and he can’t help but feel a bit emotional. Still, he bites it back because Stiles needs him to stay strong and sooner rather than later he’s going to have to get back out there and calm his kid down.

 

“Y’know I’m rarely one to say I told you so but…” John starts, a loud chuckle erupting out of his throat when James turns to give him a now familiar eye roll.

 

“I certainly was not prepared for it back then, but hopefully the years have taught me better this time.”

 

‘Oh I wouldn’t count on it. Like most things, Stiles’ skepticism only grows better with age.”

 

James straightens his fuzzy hat and leans down to buckle up his big black boots. “Maybe he’ll cut me a little slack this time, I mean he’s practically my son now…” he asks, looking back at John with a hopeful grin.

 

“Wow, you really don’t get it do you?” John answers, shaking his head. “That only makes it worse.”

 

James frowns.

 

“What? You think he drives me up the wall because he _hates_ me? Nah...you’re family now. You get the _family_ treatment. Good luck out there though.” John says, laughing loudly as he makes his way back toward the banquet hall.

 

James slumps down and groans, it would not look good for him to have his ass verbally handed to him by someone less than half his age. Somehow, he thinks if anyone can do it, it’s probably Stiles. He takes a deep breath and shakes his head feeling a familiar sort of fond exasperation that seems to come with any thoughts of his soon to be son-in-law.

 

_Showtime_

 

“We are gathered here today to celebrate the joining of these two hearts, two lives...”

* * *

 

 

“Stiles?” Derek asks, surprised not to be greeted enthusiastically at the door as his now husband has taken to doing.

 

“Sorry, Der! Got my hands full. If you come here you can totally get your after work kisses though,” Stiles calls back from the kitchen.

 

Derek follows the sound of his voice and grins when he sees his ridiculous husband half covered in flour, hands stained with frosting and food coloring.

 

Stiles holds his arms out in front of him and Derek quickly shakes his head.

 

“Oh no you don’t,” he says, instead maneuvering himself around behind Stiles and wrapping around him that way. He inhales the spicy pine notes of Stiles’ scent, the sugary sweetness from the cookies still floating in the air. “Mmm, you smell amazing.”

 

“Oh? You mean like sex stuff...like I smell like you or something?”

 

“No, you smell like you, like Christmas…”

 

“Wait what? What do you mean I smell like Christmas? That doesn’t sound sexy…”

 

Derek rolls his eyes, “You’re an idiot.’

 

“Hey! No insulting the chef or you don’t get any of his sweet sweet goodies.”

 

“Maybe I’ll just make my _own_ goodies.”

 

“We both know that your goodies aren’t nearly as good as mine.”

 

Derek snorts, “You’re talking about sex aren’t you?”

 

‘Duh.”

 

He chuckles despite himself, kissing at Stiles’ neck, inhaling more of the delicious scent. “It’s pine and cinnamon sugar, it’s...it’s more than just a scent, it’s a feeling. You smell like mine, like home.”

 

“Aww, look at you being all domestic and sweet...Laura will _never_ believe me.”

 

“Ugh, shut up and let me love you Stiles.”

 

“Well when you put it that way…”

 

Derek kisses him silly, kisses him until his own oxygen feels depleted and then kisses him some more. When he finally pulls away they’re both panting a little, flushed red with the spicy flavor of their arousal filling the space.

 

“Hey, you stopped talking...it's _C_ _hristmas Magic”_

 

 

  
  
  
  



End file.
